


Forgiven

by Azumaru



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Some Fluff, Valentine's Day, Yooran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azumaru/pseuds/Azumaru
Summary: V wants to have a talk with the Choi twins. Unfortunately for him, Saeran isn't quite over what happened yet.





	Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Valentine's Day gift for the mysmevalentinesdayexchange on tumblr for bluecreator! If you want to reblog it from tumblr, do so from this link https://azumaruru.tumblr.com/post/182792192233/forgiven
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoy!!

Saeran doesn’t like the heavy stone sitting cold in his gut, fear creeping through his body as the day went on. As much as he didn’t want to mention it in therapy, he wound up blurting it out anyway.

 

   The therapist had just hummed thoughtfully as she read over the message from this morning sitting without a reply on his phone.

  
  


**Yoosung** : Can we talk tonight?

  
  


   He hadn’t understood what his boyfriend meant. They were just talking not even an hour prior, laughing about some stupid video they’d found on MeTube and finding all the similarities between the guy in the video and his twin. Saeyoung didn’t have anything to do with this, did he? Is this some sort of test, to see if he’d truly buried the hatchet from their childhood apart? Anxiety’s been ringing in his head all day, he’s surprised it hasn’t brought him a migraine yet.

 

   Still…it’s only early noon. He bids farewell to the therapist, appointment card in hand, and turns with a sigh to trot up to Saeyoung’s flashy car. What was with this guy and cars? Even after everything that had happened, that’s the one thing that hasn’t changed with his brother. He can’t say he blames him, if it’s a harmless interest, then that’s what it is, he supposes. The door is shut and the seatbelt clicked into place before he even looks at his twin.

 

   “Have you spoken to Yoosung today?” He hates how quiet his voice is. His brother isn’t stupid enough to miss a cue like tone change, but he’s grateful he doesn’t freeze up or cocks his head to the side. The car starts to pull out of the parking lot.

 

   “Haven’t heard from him since yesterday, no. Did something happen?” Saeyoung’s too nonchalant, eyes trained on the road.

 

   “Can we stop and get something to drink?” Saeran deflects, running his thumb over the phone in his hand. It feels ten times heavier with the weight of what he hasn’t said yet.

 

   “Absolutely. The usual?” Saeyoung chances a glance over at him. He forces a small smile back.

 

   “Yeah. The usual.”

 

* * *

 

   “The usual” is always a small comfort Saeran likes to indulge in when the world bothers him. He watches the white haze on top of his hot chocolate swirl around in lazy circles, cat-shaped marshmallows still floating against the side of the mug. His brother taps around on his phone, waiting for him to come around and speak first. Saeran’s anxiety thanks him.

 

   “Yoosung said he wanted to talk tonight.” Saeran murmurs without looking up.

 

   Saeyoung chuckles under his breath. “You always talk, though.”

 

   He looks up from the drink, feeling a lot more tired the more his brain whirls in circles. “I think he meant…talk.”

 

   The corner of his brother’s mouth twitches. He can’t discern the emotion that flickered across his face. “Do you have an idea of what he might want to talk about?” Saeran just shakes his head with a sigh, taking a sip. Why do people have to be so hard to figure out? “I think it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.  _ You’d _ know what you did before he did, if something was wrong.”

 

   He can’t argue there.

  
  


**Saeran** : When?

  
  


   The reply was almost immediate.

  
  


**Yoosung** : Can I come over in a few hours?

  
  


   A few hours? That would give him enough time to prepare, at least. Saeyoung was right, there’s nothing to be alarmed about. Probably. Hopefully.

  
  


**Saeran** : Yeah. I’ll see you then.

  
  


**Yoosung** : :)

  
  


   The weight on his chest eases off just a bit.

 

* * *

 

   “Why would I talk to V?” The words come out harsher than he intended, he hates the way Yoosung flinches. “Yoosung, you  _ know _ what he did to my brother and me.” How is he supposed to feel? Upset? Betrayed? Concerned? He feels all of those things and more.

 

   Yoosung can’t look him in the eye from across the couch, and his heart twinges. “I know, I just…” His voice is so small. Saeran wishes he could step back in time and avoid this entire conversation, pretend he was busy, change the subject, literally anything else other than this. Even Saeyoung hadn’t touched on the topic, for good reason. “What if we’d lost him that day? We’d never know why…why he did what he did, you know?”

 

   “Because he’s a fucking liar, Yoosung. You hated him for so long, what changed? Why is he suddenly so important to you?”

 

   He can’t stand to see the moisture welling up in those violet eyes he loves so much. “It’s nothing like that, Saeran. But after everything that’s happened…he at least has a right to be heard, doesn’t he?”

 

   Ah, so it’s like that. He can’t really blame Yoosung. Did his own therapist help him come to terms with everything? Is this one of the last steps to processing his entire world being thrown upside down once again?

 

   Or is this coming from before anything happened, when no one but Saeyoung would remotely bother to listen to his grief when he needed to be heard the most?

 

   Saeran carded his fingers through his hair, hanging his head with closed eyes. A million thoughts were roiling around inside his head, but his heart hurt from the loudest voice of rejection. It was insanity, daring to let that traitor, that liar get inside his head. But he wasn’t under the Sa—Rika’s thumb anymore, was he? No, he’s his own person now; he can trust or distrust whoever he wants to.

 

   He trusts Yoosung as much as he trusts his own twin brother.

 

   “…okay,” He lifts his head to look at Yoosung, relief flooding through him at the restrained smile that spreads on his face, “but I’ll need a favor.”

 

   “Anything for you.” Yoosung replies in an instant, scooting over to wrap him up in a tight hug.

 

   He leans into the welcome embrace, his own arms curling around his waist. “I want you to be there too.” There’s a few heartbeats of silence that seem to stretch out far too long.

 

   “Of course I’ll be there for you.”

 

   God, he loves this man.

 

* * *

 

   He wasn’t surprised that Yoosung had already spoken to Saeyoung about the whole idea before he approached him. The entire idea of V was always a touchy subject in this house, especially since Saeran almost murdered the man in his fit of confusion. He isn’t sure whether he should be scared or confident about this meeting. Would he try to make small talk, or just waltz in, say what he had to say, and leave as quick as he’d come?

 

   Saeran doesn’t think it’ll be that easy. V’s always been known as a man of few words, but he also doesn’t beat around the bush. Unlike in the messenger, there’s nowhere for him to hide, no way to feign a loss of signal or a dead battery to flee from unwanted discussion.

 

   “He’s on the way,” Saeyoung announces from the kitchen. Saeran just grunts in acknowledgement, spooning another mouthful of mint chip into his mouth. The less he thinks about this, the better off he’ll be. Some comedic cop show is playing on the TV, and it’s the only thing he’s really bothered with for the past day and a half—save getting up for more ice cream or or a small meal. His eyes burn a little from sitting in the dark with a bright screen, he’s about 70% sure he’s an hour or two from just dropping from exhaustion. Yoosung’s napping with his face nuzzled into Saeran’s chest; he doesn’t mind it at all, it’s still too early for even Saeyoung to be awake but he can’t be bothered to move his boyfriend to his bed. Supposedly, V has this important meeting today that he just  _ couldn’t _ cancel, but he’s sent numerous texts stating that until this conversation is thoroughly concluded, he’s not stepping foot outside. Saeran hasn’t bothered to answer any of the messages, but it’s the thought that counts, he supposes.

 

   It doesn’t do much to lessen Saeran’s worry about it all, but at least he knows this is a priority to the other man. It’s a lot easier to battle his nerves when he’s able to focus on the soft rise and fall of Yoosung’s chest and the feel of his smooth unkempt hair under his fingers. Yoosung somehow always smells of citrus and sunshine and some semblance of honey, he idly wishes he could bottle the scent up so he could take it with him wherever he went. Is that creepy? No, it’s only weird if he gives voice to the thought. He can’t be judged on it if nobody knows it crossed his mind. Definitely not as weird as admitting that he smells his partner on occasion to get another whiff of that sweet calming scent.

 

   Thinking is getting tiresome. His eyelids start to droop harder with each passing minute that crawls by; the spoon clinks against the bowl as he sets it in and drapes his freed hand over his boyfriend’s back. Turning his head to face the couch, he settles in and closes his eyes. The quiet noise from the television fades out to a distant drone, and then silence.

 

   The feeling of weight on his shoulder rouses him against his will and he holds himself back from swinging out. How long has it been since he let himself slip off?

 

   “Hey, Saeran,” ugh, that’s Saeyoung’s voice, “Yoosung made us some breakfast. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” He’d rather sleep through the damn meeting, but what does he know? Letting out a half-yawn, he rubs his eyes and blinks them open after footsteps are heard traveling away. It’s still dark in the bunker, save for a few floor lamps turned on for light. For a moment, he’s grateful that his brother let him catch a few winks of sleep, not that he’d ever admit it out loud. He has to keep that “tsundere attitude,” as the idiot calls it. Rolling off the couch, he trudges to the kitchen and ignores his cranky stomach.

 

   Yoosung’s made a little too much—not that he minds, leftovers are great for lazy days, but this must have taken at least a little while, how much longer was he left to sleep than he thought? Pancakes, scrambled eggs, crepes with berry sauce, french toast, and various meats were plated in a buffet style line on the counter. Did he have to go to the store to get the ingredients for this? There was no way in hell that they’d had all this in their fridge the night prior, not when there’s usually a few containers of food and way too much soda and junk food in every inch of the thing.

 

   Still…the fact that his boyfriend went out of his way to do all this for them, for him. Saeran shuffles over and wraps his arm around the man in question, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck with an appreciative hum. “Hey,” he breathes.

 

   “Hey yourself,” Yoosung’s too occupied with his hands in dish water to turn around right away, but he manages to turn and press a gentle kiss to his temple, “you ready for this?”

 

   He just groans under his breath. “If by ‘this’ you mean the feast my amazing partner prepared for me, then yeah. Anything else is a given ‘no’.” Slipping away, he grabs a plate from the stack and starts piling on food for himself. There were four plates in that stack, and he’s doing his damnedest to avoid hyperfixating on that little detail. Seriously? They were going to talk over  _ breakfast _ ? Where’s this man’s tact? Was it his plan all along, to grab some free food and jet off after most likely undoing months of his progress in therapy?

 

   No, no. It keeps his hands busy, it’s better not to get antsy if things get heated. He hasn’t quite gotten his self-destruction under control, this is for the better. They know what they’re doing, he’s sure of it.

 

   An unfamiliar laugh grabs his attention as the front door opens, his brother sidling in like he’s free of any cares in the world…and a mint-haired bastard behind him. Saeran shakes his head, he’s gotta keep this shit under control or they’re not even going to be sitting down before silverware starts flying. V hasn’t even said anything yet, but he’s already pissed off. It can’t be helped, he supposes. Years of childhood trauma and brainwashing will do that to a guy.

 

   “Ah…good morning, Yoosung. Saeran.” It’s impossible to miss the softening in V’s voice on the last syllable of his name. V’s arm lifts in a friendly wave, he stiffly jerks his own hand into the air to reciprocate. This is already a disaster.

 

   “Morning, V.” Yoosung steps away from the sink, drying his hands with a towel. “You look a lot better today.” Today? Has he been visiting V without telling him? It’s understandable, given that he’s never had the highest opinion of the man…but neither has Yoosung. There’s a noticeable lack of edge to his words, and it bothers him on some level he’s not quite sure he understands. V says something, but Saeran does his best to tune it out. Who gives a damn how he’s doing? He’s never asked Saeran how he’s been doing all these years. He makes his way to the table and takes a seat before he can overthink himself into a fight before the conversation even starts.

 

   Yoosung slips into the seat next to his and pours Saeran and himself a glass of orange juice, shooting a concerned glance at him. He just stuffs some eggs into his mouth and stares down his plate. He knows he’s being difficult. It’s not long before Saeyoung and V take their seats at the table after plating up their own meals. Part of him really wishes Saeyoung had invested in a slightly larger table…it’s alright, but he’s only a couple feet from the man that wrecked both of their youths. It’s a little too close for comfort.

 

   “Sleep well, Saeran?” There isn’t a hint of teasing in his brother’s question, thank whatever god is out there.

 

   He just shakes his head, taking a sip of orange juice. “Still tired.”

 

   “Understandable,” V chimes in after a swallow, “Yoosung’s mentioned you haven’t been sleeping well lately. Is everything alright?” Jealousy prickles in Saeran’s chest, he grunts in response to be polite. When were they buddy-buddy now? Is there a whole new world that Yoosung’s hiding from him, taking after the man he vehemently claimed to hate so much? It wasn’t fair. Everyone in the RFA had promised  _ no more secrets _ , he figures this would have come up in casual conversation at some point. He’s not a ticking time bomb like they expected him to be.

 

   Yoosung shifts in his seat, chewing with his brows furrowed in thought. No doubt he’s picked up on Saeran’s change in demeanor. “So…what did you want to talk about, V?” He asks slowly.

 

   He doesn’t miss the way Saeyoung shoots Saeran a nervous glance, and V might as well have started sweating right then and there.

 

   “Are you sure you want to stick around for this, Yoosung?” V’s got his hand around his drink glass like it’s his only lifeline. He sounds a little strained. Good. “This is a bit of a sensitive topic…”

 

   “Whatever you can say in front of me, you can say in front of him.” Saeran snaps and sets his glass down with force, feeling a little bad that Saeyoung jumps at the sudden noise. “Yoosung deserves to be kept out of the dark.”

 

   V just sighs, dabbing a napkin at the corner of his mouth. Probably debating whether to suggest more strongly, or wait for Saeyoung to charge to the rescue and ask Yoosung to leave. Saeran’s fully prepared to ask V to go to hell. But his brother’s silent, the napkin tucked under the plate it was brought out from, a drink taken before a breath. He clears his throat.

 

   “Very well,” he concedes, “though I would like to start with what you and Saeran know already about the…situation.” Yoosung’s hand finds Saeran’s thigh, thumb rubbing small encouraging circles over the fabric. He just slumps a little and chews over a bite of crepe, the sweetness of the cream cheese giving him a good pause before he opens his mouth.

 

   “After the Sa— _ she _ slipped me hacking books, took me in, she told me Saeyoung had abandoned me. You abandoned me. That she was the only one that cared for me now. Told me I should hate Saeyoung for enjoying a luxurious life while I stayed behind and suffered.” Pain flashed across his twin’s face as well as some conflict he wasn’t sure he could identify. “So when I didn’t believe her, she stuffed Elixir down my throat and brainwashed me til I did.” Yoosung’s hand squeezes him, warmth blossoms in his chest. “Then, my mission was to take the RFA to Paradise.”

 

   “That’s when you started hacking the messenger.” Yoosung murmurs. Saeran just nods and picks up his fork again.

 

   “She also said you were a traitor and a liar.” Some part of him deep down wanted to needle V until he broke, but he couldn’t find the gusto to manage more than bits and pieces of what he heard during his time in that damn cult. “Dunno what the fuck that means still, but keeping everything secret was pretty shitty of you.”

 

   “Saeran,” Saeyoung hisses under his breath. He just smirks back.

 

   There’s an awkward pause hanging in the air for a few heartbeats too long before V inclines his head to the side. “And you, Saeyoung?”

 

   Saeyoung chews the inside of his lip, golden eyes flicking around the room in thought. He always does this when he’s finding the right words, but it feels like he’s just stalling.

 

   “She said Saeran was safe and happy, and sent me a few pictures of him smiling to prove it. All I know is what you’ve told me, which isn’t exactly a lot, either. I couldn’t see him, couldn’t talk to him, you chalked it all up to the work for the agency but you knew there was more to that, didn’t you?” He shoots V a sideways glare. A slight guilty nod from the man, and he continues. “After a while, you told us Rika—” Saeran grits his teeth on instinct “—committed suicide, the body wasn’t found, the cops let you off pretty easily after interrogation. I tried using my skills to find any trace of a lie, nothing was turning up in the reports so I brushed it off as something fishy.

 

   “But Rika wouldn’t—” Both Choi brothers stared Yoosung down, Saeyoung with a strained sadness, Saeran barely containing an outburst at the R word mentioned another time. Yoosung’s face pales at his mistake and he lowers his eyes to his plate, picking at his food with his fork. “Sorry…I’ll be quiet.” Saeran feels bad that he looks like a kicked puppy, his hand rests on his boyfriend’s and gives it a small squeeze. He hopes he didn’t take it personally.

 

   V folds his hands together on the table’s edge, lips drawn thin. “What I’m trying to say is…You two were estranged for the longest time because of our lovers’ quarrel. Neither of you deserved to be robbed of your childhood like this.” He doesn’t meet either of their gazes, Saeran can’t blame him. “Especially with what went on at Mint Eye…it opened my eyes. I have the burden of too many secrets that shouldn’t be secrets, they would have gone to the grave with me if…” He swallows and Saeran shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I _ f Saeran had aimed a little higher _ . Those nightmares still shake him awake from a dead sleep, sometimes it’s Saeyoung or Rika, or even worse, Yoosung. God, he couldn’t live with himself if he brought harm to Yoosung. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this right now, to be caught up with the destruction of his little bubble he was perfectly fine living in.

 

   “I didn’t come here for a pity gathering.” V speaks slower, taking time to set his turquoise gaze on each of the Choi brothers, glancing at Yoosung quickly as well. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness.”

 

   Saeran snorts, standing abruptly from his chair. Saeyoung’s head jerks up in surprise, Yoosung’s visibly startled, even V’s jumped a little. “You think that coming here just to make my brother and I tell each other what mommy and daddy did with us will make you forgive us?”

 

   “Saeran, listen—” Saeyoung holds his hands up.

 

   “No, Saeyoung,  _ you _ listen. You can’t just fucking waltz in here like everything is fucking  _ fine _ and expect everything to be smooth sailing. You can’t give me the last five years of my life back,  _ Jihyun _ .” He spits the name out like a bad taste in his mouth. “You can’t take the drugs out of me, you can’t un-fuck me up. No amount of sitting at a table talking will ever make me forgive you.” Blood is pounding in his ears, his heart slams in his chest. He’s pissed, sad, dejected, lonely, all rolled up into one fucked up ball of white noise that demands to be heard.

 

   Yoosung reaches a timid hand out and brushes his thigh. Saeran shoots him a softened glare at the movement, guilt panging him when he shrinks away. “You better start doing a hell of a lot more if you want to make this up to me.” His outburst is ebbing, now he just feels angry and a little more tired. He slumps hard back into his seat, crossing his arms.

 

   Saeyoung closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, an awkward silence hanging over the table that Saeran wouldn’t be caught dead breaking. that bastard deserves this discomfort. Deep down, he wants V to be sorry, he wants V to be hurting like he is. But on a more rational level, he knows V’s gone through his own personal hell trying to keep his psychotic ex at bay doing god knows what god knows where. Why else would he have stuck around if he wasn’t trying to at least keep an eye on him, make sure he was still breathing? God, feelings are stupid.

 

   “I think…you did the best you could, given the situation.” His twin sounds thoughtful, but cautious. “We still found each other in the end. There isn’t some time machine we can use to go back and undo the sins of the past, but we can look forward and build from there. Right, Saeran?”

 

   “Yeah, whatever. Sure.”

 

   He’s shot a disapproving glare from Yoosung. Saeran just rolls his eyes.

 

   “Okay. Yeah. Move forward, be together.” Yoosung softens his glare to a half-smile and his heart calms at the sight out of the corner of his eye.

 

   “I forgive you, V.” Yoosung murmurs, hands fidgeting in his lap. Saeyoung grins, relief spreading on his face. V looks a little unsettled, like he’s not sure what to feel right now.

 

   “I forgive you too. After all, you’re our big daddy of the RFA, riiight?” Leave it to Saeyoung to make a shitty joke and lift the mood. Saeran manages to crack a grin at the sound of his boyfriend’s soft laughter.

 

   “Thank you.” There’s moisture glimmering in V’s eyes, and some part of Saeran is pleased that he’s emoting more than the usual somber mood or anxiety. “I don’t deserve this, but—”

 

   “No, you don’t,” Saeran snorts, trying his best to keep his face looking angry and failing miserably, “but we all forgive you anyway.”

 

   Saeran doesn’t necessarily like physical contact with more than one person at a time, but there are a few exceptions. Being hug-sandwiched between the one he loves, and a man that’s worked so hard to earn his forgiveness, was definitely something he could handle.


End file.
